


Throat Kiss

by Syllis



Series: Kisses [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:15:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23021578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syllis/pseuds/Syllis
Series: Kisses [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681696
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4
Collections: OC Kiss Bingo 2020





	Throat Kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WolfIsa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfIsa/gifts).



Marcus didn’t even lift his gaze from the pitted wood surface of the bar, because he was too busy drinking. “I said, no cats.”

The Bee and Barb was… if someone else said buzzing tonight, they were going to end up wearing Marcus’ drink, even though it’d taken him several minutes to get this one. He was in a mood. 

Talen-Jei rushed by, tray held high up over his head as he threaded his way expertly through all the bodies. The crowd shifted, and the Khajiit beside him got pressed in even closer, though this time Marcus was pretty sure that wasn’t his fault. Nords tend to be big, shove-y, and oblivious.

“Why the fuck,” Marcus muttered to himself, though he was perfectly aware Khajiit ears could hear him. “Is this guy purring?”

“Why not be purring? It is a good night. There is money, and drink, and music that is so terrible that it makes Zasha feel better about his own.”

That had been Marcus’ opinion of the bards as well. He smirked, and instantly regretted it, because the Khajiit took their shared sentiment as permission. He scooted closer, and poked his chin forward over Marcus shoulder. 

Marcus jerked away out of reflex; Khajiit whiskers tickle.

The woman beside Marcus elbowed him right back. Unless Marcus wanted to abandon his seat, he was stuck with this Khajiit.

“You had better just be here to drink,” Marcus warned him. “Keep those paws out of my pockets.”

“Hrmm. Guild?”

“Yes. No.” Marcus shifted, trying to win himself more personal space. “Maybe. Who the hell knows; they’re all assholes. ‘What have you done for me this week, lad?’” he mimicked, and dropped his voice back to a growl. “Vekel’s my brother.”

“That calls for another drink,” the Khajiit agreed. He flicked a few of his braids out of Marcus’ way and raised a hand for Keerava.

Sounded like Tonilia might’ve done this Zasha down on a deal as well. Or, well, who knew.

“Oh, hey,” Marcus said with surprise, because it wasn’t mead or ale or even a cup of brandy; it was one of Talen-Jei’s expensive concoctions. Not quite as good on busy nights because it was mixed up in the back in bulk and poured out by pitcher, but still. “Thanks.” He took a long sip, letting the double-punch of the flavor and the moon-sugar roll through him, followed closely by the soothing burn of the alcohol. 

Marcus could smell a musky-minty herb. Was Talen-Jei playing herbalist again? Didn’t matter, it was good. Reminded him of napping in a summer meadow in the sun. He sighed, letting the tension roll out of him.

“What the hell, Vekel, you fucking bastard,” he murmured. Because Marcus always forgot. Always. At least until he’d come back to Riften and let his brother remind him that no, Vekel had not changed. Every time.

When the Khajiit made a low noise, Marcus turned his head. They were so close that he had to lean back a little to do it. “Not talking about you,” he started to say. “Just my asshole bro--” He blinked. “Daaammmmnn. Those colors are amazing with your hair color. That is some nice work. Is it Gasha’s?”

The Khajiit blinked ethereal green eyes, feigning innocence. “No. Zasha’s.” 

Marcus was having a bad day, it took him a beat. Oh, yeah, that was this guy’s name. He broke into a laugh, letting himself savor the joke. “Nice eyeliner, too. You’re making me very sorry I didn’t bother to dress up.”

Another lurch against his chair and Marcus smiled again-- thanks for the drink!-- and turned around so that he could actually finish it before some fool sloshed it all over him. Given how crowded it was in here, it might well be his last of the night. 

A soft thump as his skull was bumped, and then the velvety-soft feel of that face rubbing across his cheekbone. That odd herbal scent had intensified, and a few strands of that dark-red hair fell over his chest. “Pretty,” he sighed, rubbing it between his fingers.

The hand on Marcus’ chair moved to his left thigh, and he could hear laughter as well as purring now, the twin sounds hitching against each other pleasantly.

"Why the hell," said Marcus, to no one. "Is this cat licking my neck?!"

Ah, fuck it.

He spread his knees apart a bit further, hoping that the hint would be taken, and lifted his chin to expose his throat. The noise Zasha made at that vibrated all the way down his spine and back up, lighting him up like moon-sugar; and those lips and tongue, working. 

Over a hundred people had jammed themselves into this tap room and not one of them fucking noticed. Zasha didn’t stop. He kept on sucking and licking. It went on and on, any noises Marcus made lost in the din.

“Hey,” he husked. “Killing me here. Ahh! At least get your hand on my dick.” Marcus was pretty sure that last bit couldn't have got heard even by Khajiit-- so he squirmed around till he'd he'd made his point.

Zasha laughed at him. Those clever fingers squeezed. 

Marcus’ hips jerked. “Fuck! Either get me off right here, or we go up to your room. Now.”


End file.
